


Fics that involve Brendon Small

by zsomeone



Category: Metalocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-28
Updated: 2012-07-25
Packaged: 2018-03-16 17:26:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3496679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zsomeone/pseuds/zsomeone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These aren't actually chapters, just grouping all my fics involving Brendon himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dethklok wants a TV show, and creates Metalocalypse with the help of Brendon Small
> 
> Yes, I'm aware that Brendon is not the artist and that Tommy co-wrote the first 2 seasons. But for my purposes here, Brendon is a pretty much a one-man Metalocalypse machine. (With some hired animators.) Because otherwise, things just get too complicated. Also, the histories don't match up well, but it's FICTION so don't jump me for that.

_~in the early part of 2006~_

TV shows were where it was at these days. They should know, they all watched a hell of a lot of TV.  
As a band, they thought they were pretty damn good. As a band, they had managed to put out a couple of albums, and people had bought them. But as a band, they were merely just another band in a huge fucking sea of bands, and they wanted more.  
Nathan had been pondering this very point for some time. "We should have a TV show. Like Ozzy did, only blacker. I mean, Ozzy's cool and all, but seriously, what the hell was that? We should do that, except make it totally metal."  
"Thet's a great idea Nat'an. We'll jest call up a praducer an' tell 'em we wanna TV show."  
"Wowee, it's that easies? I wants a cape!"  
"What? Uh, fuck no, no capes. Just like, _us_. Being brutal. Yeah."  
"So where ams we findings de TV somebodies? Dat ams de hard part, rights?"

Propping his feet up on the coffee table, Nathan reflected, "I uh, had a roommate in college that wanted to make TV shows. _I_ wanted him to be my guitarist, but he was all about film and shit. Good guitarist, though."  
"But Nathans, you tells us you didn't goes to de colleges. You nots even finishes de high schools."  
"No, I _did_ go to college. I mean, unofficially. I didn't, like, go to classes or anything, I just lived there. For a couple of months, anyway. He, uh, didn't have a roommate that year and let me crash with him. Brendon Small... I wonder whatever happened to him?"  
"Oh, you means the guy who did Home Movies?"  
"Schut up, Toki."  
"No, wait- Toki, say that again."  
"Home Movies, it's a cartoons." Typing quickly on the laptop he'd been playing around with, Toki pulled up a photo. "This guy?"  
Nathan stared at the face of his old roommate. He'd changed some, but there was no doubt it was him. "Yeah, that's him. I guess he did make TV stuff, after all. Can you, like, find his phone number?"

Toki was well known for his ability to find shit online. Anytime they needed to know something, Toki was the man. It didn't take him too long to locate a phone number. "Okays, I gots it."  
It couldn't be that easy. Murderface was understandingly skeptical, nothing was ever this easy for him. "Scho, we're really going to jusht do thish?"  
"I tinks maybe we shoulds be talkings about dis more first?"  
"NO! Fuck, he'd better remember me..." Nathan grabbed his phone and punched in the number.  
"Dude, what if-"  
"SHUT UP IT'S RINGING! ...Brendon? Hey, it's Nathan, remember me? ...NATHAN EXPLOSION! ....Yeah, yeah I know you were just kidding... Hey listen, we want to be on a TV show, can you do that for us? ...Oh yeah, I have a band, that's who I'm talking about... No, I didn't fucking get married... So when? ...Okay, cool, see you then." He closed his phone and grinned at them. "He remembers me. He's coming tomorrow. You assholes better not make me look bad."

****

They were waiting impatiently, emotions ranging from hope to total skepticism. Brendon Small was late.  
Finally he arrived, in a small car that had seen better days. This was not exactly encouraging. He greeted Nathan as an old friend, though, and looked interested in the rest of them.  
Nathan sucked at introductions, but he tried anyway. "Guys, this is Brendon. Uh Brendon, that's Murderface- um, _William_ Murderface, Toki Wartooth, Skwisgaar Skwigelf, and Pickles."  
"Pickles? That's it?"   
"Pickles the Drummer. That's just his name, okay?"  
"Sure, whatever. Hey everyone. As I assume you know, I write and produce TV shows. I've been thinking about your idea since Nathan called me, and I think a cartoon would work best." He pulled out an all-purpose legal pad and a pen, ready to begin.

Skwisgaar did not approve. "Pfft, cartoons ams for de little kids."  
"I likes cartoons..."  
"Mine point ams made."  
"Fucks you, Skwisgaar! Just because-"  
Brendon stopped them before things could escalate. "But if we do a cartoon, you can make your lives however you want. Wouldn't you like to live in a castle?"  
"Oooh, a castle? Ja, I likes dat, but can it be shapes like de dragons?" Skwisgaar's fascination with dragons was not exactly a secret.   
"Noes, a Vikings boat! Vikings are brutal!"  
Brendon had been sketching furiously, and now turned the pad toward them. "How about both?"  
A Viking dragon boat castle, that was pretty fucking brutal indeed. They wanted to argue just for the sake of arguing, but what could possibly be more brutal than that?

This cartoon thing was starting to sound pretty good, after all. "We can has anytings we wants? Den I wants to be de world's fastest guitarist."  
"Noes, I wants that!"  
"Too lates Toki, I says it first. But I tells you what, you can be de seconds fastest, okays?"  
Toki flipped him off.  
Murderface wanted a title, too. "Make me the fashtesht basshisht in the world!"  
"Dude, thet's jest stupid. Heh, _fattest_ bassist in tha world, maybe."  
"Well you can jusht schuck my cock!" He yanked down his shorts. Again.  
Brendon was taking notes and didn't even bother to look up. "No thanks, but how about we say you can play bass with it?"  
"That'sch not posschible."  
"So? It's a cartoon, you can do anything you want."  
"I can play bassch with my cock? That'sh _aweshome_!" Thankfully, he pulled his shorts back up.

Brendon finished scribbling down all the band's ideas, and then realized there was one important detail that had been overlooked. "Nathan, you forgot to tell me- what's the name of your band?"  
"Oh! Dethklok, we're Dethklok. Are you gonna call it that? The show?"  
"Hmmm... no. I think we need to come up with something more mysterious... something that sounds ominous yet memorable..."  
"Like the end of the world. But it's gotta be metal!" Nathan was obsessed with making things metal.  
"End of the world and metal, okay... apocalypse... apocalypse of metal... Metalocalypse?"  
"Dude, thet's awesome!"  
Everyone else approved, and so the show would be called Metalocalypse. A cartoon about being metal. About _them_ being metal. Awesome, indeed.

But wait... if they could have anything they wanted, why not think big? Nathan pointed at Brendon. "Make it so we're, like, the biggest band in the whole world. Yeah. And really rich."  
Brendon considered this, making notes. "Well if you're _that_ successful, you need a really good manager. Do you guys even have a manager?"  
"Uh, we've got this guy... he signs stuff sometimes. But no, not really."  
"No problem, I'll just make you one. He'll be Super Manager."  
"How about a robot? Like, a robot that knows kung-fu? Maybe with a death-ray? Yeah."  
"Nathan, let's keep it realistic here."  
Pickles was getting into the spirit of things now. "Aw dude, but ya said we can have anythin' we want!"  
Brendon fidgeted with his pen. Oh, how to explain? "Okay, it's like this: if we make it too far-out, nobody will believe any of it. You want them to think your lives are really like this, don't you?"  
"You mean everybody'sch going to think it'sch real?" He could be rich and famous? Sort of?  
"Yes, that's the plan. So, a ninja death lawyer..." He made a note of it.  
"Schweet!"

Finally realizing the full possibilities, Murderface seized the opportunity. "And we can get all the ladiesch we want, becausche everybody wantsch usch."  
"Oh I don'ts know, Moiderface. Even the made-up goils probablies don'ts wants you. Maybe if you stops peeing ons them..."  
"I _like_ to pissch on them, it'sch how I expressch myshelf."  
"Well, I's just saying- goils don't likes that."   
"Dude, Toki's raight. Pissin' on chicks is naught cool. Well, naught unless they're inta thet- then it's totally cool."  
Brendon paused in his note-taking and turned to Nathan. "He's not kidding, is he? He really _does_ that?"  
"Sadly, yeah. He's not kidding."

They shouldn't be having this discussion without beer. Why were they? Yes, they should definitely have some beers.  
Nathan realized this, and remembered that he was the host. Sort of. "Hey Brendon, you want a beer?"  
"Sure, that'd be great."  
"Murderface. Hey, Murderface, go grab us some beers." He _was_ sitting closest to the kitchen. That was their rule, whoever was closest had to get the beer.  
Unfortunately, he was also prone to throwing fits about stupid shit. "Why do _I_ have to do it? Why don't you make Toki do it?"  
"JUST GO GET THE GODDAMN BEER!"  
Since Murderface was going to the fridge... "Oh, and gets me a Lunchable whiles yous in there?"  
"Fine!" He stabbed his knife into the table and got up, stomping off around the corner.

Brendon looked concerned, but everyone was acting like this was perfectly normal behavior, so he tried not to worry about it.  
Moments later, Murderface stomped back, dropping a case in the middle of the coffee table and evilly flinging a smoking horror into Toki's lap.  
Toki quickly knocked the stinking mess of melted plastic and leaking cheese to the floor. "What the fucks?!"  
Brendon eyed the smoking thing with confused amusement. "You heat your... was that a Lunchable?"  
"Noes, of course I don'ts! Stupid fucking dildos... now I gots to get another one."  
"Haha, that wasch your lascht one."  
"I's going to fucking kills you, Moiderface!"  
"Toki, calm the fuck down. Have a beer, instead." Nathan held one out. "Uh, better open it carefully." Murderface had dropped them pretty hard, and they were probably shaken up. What a dick.   
Not that this was anything new, of course.

Brendon was amused that they all seemed to listen to Nathan. "Still keeping everybody in line, huh, Nathan? You always did like being in charge."  
"It's not that... Well, Pickles is drunk or high a lot. And somebody has to keep Toki, Murderface, and Skwisgaar from killing each other."  
"I has no idea what you ams talkings about," Skwisgaar said innocently, while poking Toki in the shoulder with his finger.  
"Nathan, he's touchings me again!"  
Pickles decided to be helpful for a change, and solved the problem by throwing a beer at Skwisgaar. He had to catch it or be hit in the face, so he caught it.   
Unwisely opening it, Skwisgaar was then sprayed with shook-up beer. He was the only one, though, Toki had seen it coming and had the sense to get out of range quickly.  
Swearing in Swedish, Skwisgaar quickly drank the spilling beer.

Nathan had been thinking. "Draw us a really bad-ass motorcycle. With four sidecars, that's what we drive around in. Call it... um, a _Murdercycle_. And I'm the one who drives it. And I also want to have huge TVs that hang from meat hooks."  
"An' a hawt tub, we gatta have a hawt tub." Pickles wanted to customize _something_.  
"Hot tub we can do. But you guys do realize that putting a hook through a TV would ruin it, right? It wouldn't work anymore."  
"You said we could have _anything_!"  
Brendon nodded, giving up. "All right, then. Anything else?"  
"Yeah. We have to have, like, a whole lot of employees. And they have to be dressed like executioners. And they don't even get names, just numbers."  
"Oh ja, so we can jus says 'Hey numbers guy! Gets me a beers!' Dat ams a good ideas."  
"Hooded Dethklok employees. Call them... Klokateers? Do you all approve?" Indeed, they did.

Was there anything else? "So, do you guys have any pets or anything you want included?"  
Pickles grabbed another beer and shook his head. "We had a cat thet hung 'round, but Toki killed it."  
"It was an _accidents_! Why's it sleeping in the engines?! Nobody tells me cats sleep in the engines!" The cat-in-a-blender sounds still haunted his dreams.  
Cleaning the car hadn't been fun, and had somehow ended up being Nathan's responsibility. "Yeah, the cat was suicidal or something. There was blood everywhere- that was kinda cool. But the car smelled like burning hair for a week, and that sucked."  
"So, no pets then?"  
They shook their heads, but Pickles added, "Dude, we gat a castle, so give us wolves ta guard it. Yard wolves, ya know?"  
Wolves were pretty metal, everyone was nodding approval. Brendon made a note.

"Well, this sounds like it has a lot of potential. I had some paperwork drawn up to keep it all nice and legal, so if you'll all just sign these?" He passed out some small stacks of paper with colored "sign here" tags stuck to them.  
Being put on the spot like this with several pages of legal-speak was confusing. They all did make an attempt to read through it, and noted that they would be paid every time the show was on. That was the most important thing, right? Maybe they should have a lawyer look at these? Except they didn't have a lawyer, because they couldn't afford one.  
With a confused shrug, Nathan gave up and signed in the indicated places, and the others followed suit.  
Brendon collected them all and put them safely in his briefcase. "Don't worry, I'll mail you copies of everything."  
They nodded. Could they get back to planning now?

Then Brendon pulled out a large, expensive-looking camera from the recesses of his bag. "Okay, I need to take some photos for the animators to work from, so put on whatever you want to be wearing."  
"So, lemme git this straight: our TV selves will jest always wear tha same clothes?"  
"Yes, it's much easier that way. So you might want to change your shirt?" Pickles was currently wearing an old black tee shirt with the sleeves and collar hacked off.  
"Nah, it's fine. I don't care."  
Nathan went and changed into a plain black t-shirt. He liked his beer shirt, but he didn't want to immortalize it. Besides, black was more brutal. It would also hopefully make him look less fat.  
Toki looked down at what he was wearing and shrugged. He had no idea what to change into, so his current outfit would have to do.  
Murderface put on his old vest and boots. They all hated it when he wore those boots, especially with shorts. He knew it looked horrible, but it was his way of silently pissing them off.

Since he was pretty much covered in beer, Skwisgaar had no choice but to go and change. He would have anyway, but it was good to have an excuse.  
He came back dressed all neatly, like he was going on a date or something. He'd even tucked in his shirt and put on a belt.  
He was fooling no one. "Gawd, Skwisgaar, do ya rally think a cartoon is gonna git ya laid?"  
"Dere ams notings wrong wit' beings good-lookings."  
Nathan pointed to Brendon's notebook. "Skwisgaar fucks old ladies. And fat chicks. Write that down."  
Brendon was taking notes with evil glee, there was so much potential here...  
"Toki schleeps with a teddy bear!"  
"Noes I don'ts, shuts the fuck up, Moiderface!"

"Keep 'em coming," Brendon encouraged.  
"Hey Murderface, tell him about that time you got a blowjob from the dentist."  
"Jeezsch, how many timesch do I have to tell you? It waschn't the dentisht, it wasch hisch schecretary."  
"Who is a dude."  
"Sche jusht hasch a moushtache, like my Gramma!" As if that made anything better.  
"Mioderface jacks offs to pictures of bikers!" That had been one of those things Toki had accidently walked in on, and really wished he could unsee.  
"Hey! I juscht reshpect their lifestyle!"  
Confused, Brendon attempted to clarify this. "By coming on their faces?"  
Murdeface crossed his arms defiantly. "Don't judge the way I expressch myschelf."

Nathan tried to get things back to what was important. "We like, want our music in it, too. Because, you know, we're a band."  
An excellent idea. "Okay, give me your CDs and I'll work it in." Pickles handed him some, and he stared skeptically at the one with the band set against a red-hued, mountainous backdrop. "Who did the Photoshop on this?"  
"That'sh not Photoschop, that'sh what we really look like!"  
Brendon surveyed the five of them. Maybe Toki (it was hard to tell), but not the others, no way. "Nathan, I remember how you used to look. Even back then, nope, not like this. So who did the Photoshop?"  
"Uh, Toki did. He's really good with computers. I'm, um, not sure he did himself though, he pretty much really looks like that. The little bastard, it's not fair."  
"Don't hates me because I's beautifuls!"  
Skwisgaar punched him in the arm. "Stop copies me, dat ams MY line!"

After another case of beer and more conversation, much of which consisted of them randomly insulting each other, Brendon thought he had enough to work with for quite some time. "Okay guys, it's been fun, but I have to get going. Nathan, nice seeing you again. I'll mail you all your paperwork as soon as I make copies."  
They all got up and followed him to the door.  
"Scho, how schoon will we be on TV?"  
"Give me a couple months. We work fast, but it's still a lot of work. I hope you'll all be very happy with the results."  
Then nodded, hoping so too. Nathan gave him an awkward pat on the shoulder. "Well, you know, keep in touch?"  
With a nod and a wave, Brendon climbed back in his car and departed.

 

****  
 _~a few months later, the premiere of Metalocalypse is finally on TV~_

They were waiting for show time, and drinking of course. Brendon had called Nathan earlier to remind them that tonight was the premier, as if they could possibly forget. And now, finally, it was time.  
They watched closely as a sinister-looking chef guy served them wine. There was so much detail everywhere, it was really an amazing cartoon.  
"Whoa, check out our house! Castle, whatever, that's pretty fucking cool. Brendon did good, didn't he? I told you he was a cool guy."  
"Heh, yeah but we look kinda funny." Pickles studied them all carefully. "Gawd Toki, they made ya look 'bout fifteen! An' does my hair rally look thet bad?"  
"He does! And yeah it does, sorry Pickles. And Murderface is like, even uglier than he really is. Huh, I didn't know that was possible."  
"Shcrew you!" He wouldn't agree that his character was unattractive, but he could hardly deny it either.

And then there was a giant flying... "Oh, looks at dat, we gots a really big hooverscrafts!"  
"That'sch a helicopter, dumbassch!" Murderface loved an opportunity to show that he knew something the others didn't.  
However, Skwisgaar was unimpressed by this knowledge. "Whatevers."  
The kept watching as their "fans" were interviewed. Pickles found one part especially funny. "Murderface smoked sahm dude's fingers! Thet's like suckin' his cock! Yer gay, Murderface!"  
"What?! Why doesch that make me gay?"  
"'Cause yer suckin' on... er, nevermind." He was too into watching to bother giving a long explanation, so he just let it drop.  
"Oh hey look, he used our coffee song!" They all watched closely as the cartoon carnage unfolded. "Whoa, that's a lot of death. That's pretty fucking cool!"

Now it was back to the chef guy. Why were they focusing on him, unless...?  
"Oh guys, this doesn't look good for our chef! I think something bad's about to happen! Yeah, there he goes, right into the rotors! That's pretty brutal. Hey, I think I know where he's going with this."  
"We has de chopped chef? Who ams goings to feeds us now?!"  
"Skwisgaar, calm tha fuck down, it's naught real." Pickles was still (barely) sober enough to know that they didn't really have a chef, French or otherwise.  
The continued watching, examining the random chunks of chef laying on tables, hooked up to strange machines.  
"That'sch imposshible! They'd never find all the piecesh!"

The scene changed. Was that... is Skwisgaar... Toki started laughing hysterically. "Ha Skwisgaar, you's making coffee in a toasters! You's a fucking idiot!"  
"I hates you, Toki."  
"Toki's right, that's, uh, pretty fucking dumb. I guess you should've acted more intelligent when Brendon was here."  
"Pfft, I don't needs to be looking smarts, I ams better-lookings dan all of yous."  
"Nope, I's cuter than yous."  
"Stops copies me, Toki."  
"Nots my fault I's better-looking!"  
Pickles threw some beers at them. "Shaddup ya two, I'm tryin' ta watch the fuckin' show!"

On the screen, they were all taking a trip to the grocery store. That made perfect sense, but this was probably... not going to be good. And indeed it was looking grim. In a funny way, but still grim.  
Pickles was laughing again already. " _Food library_? Seriously, dude? Does that mean ya gatta bring it back when yer done? Shit on tha floor maybe? Here's yer food back, I returned it, now gimme sahm more!"  
"That'sch repugnant."  
"Well, look- yer tha one pissin' in tha olives!"  
"I juscht want to schay that... I would totally do that. There, I schaid it."  
"You guys? You guys, he made us into a fucking _comedy_. I don't know how I feel about that."  
How had they missed it all along? They had indeed been turned into a comedy. 

They watched as Skwisgaar and Toki moved down an aisle, actually appearing to buy real food.  
"Oh look, Skwisgaar's trying to trick Toki into buying his tampons for him! Because he's, like, too embarrassed to buy them himself. Or something."  
Skwisgaar just scowled at them, knowing any defense would only make things worse.  
Not caring about the tampons one way or another, Toki peered closely at the TV screen. "Oh heys, I's on a cereals box!"  
Murderface squinted at cartoon Toki's grocery cart. Toki was on a cereal? That wasn't fair. "Why'sch _he_ get to be on a boxch? Why can't _I_ be on one?"  
Sensing payback time, Skwisgaar pointed out that he was “..alreadies all overs de olives, and dat ams quite enoughs."  
Amusing, but they were all too interested to be sidetracked. They didn't want to miss anything.

As cartoon Nathan got on the intercom and started making announcements, the real Nathan fell off the couch laughing. "OH FUCK HE REMEMBERED THAT!!"  
They were all confused. "What?"  
"I like, worked in a grocery store. For two days, uh, back then. That's why I got fired, I did that with the intercom thing. Almost exactly like that, and he was there at the time."  
"You rally did thet? Thet's awesome!"  
"Well, I got fired for it, but yeah, it was still pretty cool. I didn't get to see it, but I heard some lady in produce had a heart attack or something."  
"Wowee, you kills a lady with yous _voice_?"  
"Yeah. Well, it might've just been a coincidence, I don't know."

Pickles pulled their attention back to the screen. "Eeww dude, Skwisgaar's hittin' on a grandma! Well, he gat thet part raight."   
That looked like a pretty sweet GMILF there, by any standards. Yeah, he'd do her. "She woulds probably be very gratefuls if I fucks her."  
Toki made gagging noises, his usual response when he had to hear about this sort of thing. Which was, sadly, all too often, Skwisgaar liked to brag.  
"Shuts up Toki, you really should tries de old ones sometimes, be seeing what you ams missing."  
Oh, because incontinence and senility were _so_ cool. "No thanks."  
Due to their arguing, they'd missed a bit and were now back at their dragon boat castle.   
Without the food. 

Determined to miss nothing else, they watched closely as their characters gathered around the filleted chef.  
Not surprisingly, their poking, prodding, and verbal demands had no effect on the assortment of meaty chunks that had once been a man.  
Finally, a decision was made, and although that part wasn't shown, the chef was reconstructed.  
Nathan looked smug. "Yeah, I called it, we sewed him back together. _Wrong_ , just like in our song. That's fucking brutal."  
Watching the hideously-reassembled chef lurch across the screen, they all had to agree that it was indeed very brutal.  
What would the next episode bring?  
They would be watching, there was no chance they'd forget about something this important.  
Too bad waiting sucked.

 

****  
 _~about a year later~_

They had been receiving regular checks, which was really cool. There had been so many reruns that they were making more than enough to pay their rent now.   
Having long since accepted that their show was a comedy, they still watched every episode and loved it.  
It was satisfying to know that their music was reaching so many. But then something happened.  
They found it almost by accident- a promotion for a Dethklok tour, something they'd heard nothing about. Had someone stolen their name?   
Checking the dates and locations, the found one close enough that they could attend. They just had to see what this was all about.  
Fortunately, tickets weren't that expensive, there would be enough money left over for beer.  
That was important, concerts sucked without beer.

The night of the concert, they arrived a little early, it seemed that impatience and anger were great motivators.  
It was time to find out who these imposters were, and figure out what they could do about them. After all, _they_ were Dethklok, not... whoever the fuck these people were.  
Standing inside the doors, trying to figure out where the closest beer was to be found, they were accosted by a small group of girls.   
"Awesome cosplay, guys!" one said with an odd, 'squee'-like sound. Giggling, the group went on their way.  
Everyone looked confused except Toki, who was pissed. "We's not fucking cosplayers!"  
"What ams cost-plays?"  
Realizing that everyone but him was equally lost, he explained. "Cosplay is where you dresses up like characters from cartoons or video games."  
Shocked and upset, they bought beer and went in.

As soon as the concert started, it all became very clear. Nathan violently threw his beer into the audience, not bothering to notice who he'd hit. "THAT'S FUCKING _BRENDON_! HE'S PLAYING OUR MUSIC!"  
And indeed, there was Brendon Small (and some other guys) on stage in front of a big screen. And on that screen were their cartoon selves, playing along.  
Now that they were looking, Dethklok saw that many members of the audience had dressed to resemble them. Most were far from accurate, and in fact, a lot of them were female. It was pretty fucking weird.  
Sending Toki out for more beer got them through several more songs, but even with the help of alcohol, it was a lot to take.

Abandoning the show halfway though, they pushed their way through the crowd, back to the exits. Once they'd made it safely outside where they could breathe again, a horrible realization dawned on them.   
Skwisgaar was the most upset. "We _never_ has dat many people at our shows, not evers. Dis ams so wrong…"  
Now that he mentioned it, they could see it was true. Even their most successful gigs had never come close to generating the kind of crowd they had witnessed inside. That was really depressing. They were clearly quite popular, but it wasn't really them. Not anymore.  
Pickles had been thinking, or at least making an attempt to. "We need ta tawlk ta a lawyer 'bout this."  
Betrayed and uncomprehending, Nathan automatically objected, "But Brendon's my friend!"  
Toki patted his arm in a semi-comforting manner. “I don’ts think he’s any of ours friend, I thinks he’s usings us. We does what Pickle says?”  
Nathan nodded sadly.

****

A few days later, the five of them sat in the lawyer's office, waiting impatiently as he read through all the paperwork they'd signed. They'd randomly picked the guy out of the phone book, but he seemed to be taking them seriously, at least. That was a good sign.  
Finally, the man looked up from the papers. "Well, although not very fair, this agreement looks solid. I'm guessing you didn't have anyone look over it before you signed it?"  
They shook their heads in unison. Clearly they should have, but Nathan knew the guy, and besides, they had all been so excited to have their own TV show.  
"Well, unless there's been a breach of contract on his end- which there doesn't appear to be- you have no legal recourse. Would you like me to explain these papers to you?"  
They nodded gratefully. What the hell had they even agreed to?

Assuming an authoritative tone of voice, he informed them, "Well, basically, you signed over all the rights to your music. He can legally play your music and use your name, and there's nothing you can do about it. It's airtight, and very well-written. He did, however, agree to pay you two hundred dollars for each new episode of your show, and one hundred dollars every time an episode re-airs. From the receipts you've given me, that seems to be all in order. I'm afraid you have no legal options at this time."  
"THIS BLOWS DEAD GOATS!!" Nathan attempted to overturn the man's desk, but was quickly restrained by Toki and Murderface.  
It sucked, it _really_ sucked. It... well, it blew dead goats, indeed. But it wasn't this guy's fault, it was theirs.  
Pickles paid the man for his time, and they left.

 

****  
 _~some time later~_

They had secured a paying gig in a nearby bar, it had become a weekly thing. And each week they watched in satisfaction as their crowd grew a little bit bigger.  
After yet another successful show, they were feeling like maybe everything was turning out right in their world, despite all the fuck-ups they'd caused. It had been really good to see so many fans singing along.  
One fan came up to the stage as they were breaking down their equipment, shouting praise. "Good job, guys, you sounded almost like the real thing!"  
"Uh, thanks…" What the hell?  
Skwisgaar froze at the words, realization sinking in. "Oh fucks, dey tinks we ams our own tributes band."  
He was right. They stared at each other in shock.  
They were Dethklok.  
But really, who the fuck was Dethklok, anymore?


	2. “We need to talk!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The band has kidnaped Brendon because they have some issues with how he’s been running (writing) things.  
> Warning: Remember Girlfriendklok? That’s the kind of stuff that’s going to happen to Brendon. (Also, sorry for implying Brendon/Tommy gayness.)

Brendon woke up tied to a chair. There was something over his head, most likely a pillowcase. He had a headache, like he’d been hit with a bat or something similar. Where was he? Why had he been kidnaped like this?  
There were people in the room. He could hear their voices, but they spoke too low for him to understand anything.

“I think he’s awake.”  
Brendon had been testing his bonds, now he froze. There was something familiar about that voice...  
Footsteps approached, and the head covering was suddenly removed, leaving him half blinded by the lights and blinking in disbelief. This _had_ to be a joke! They weren’t real!

Nathan Explosion stood before him, looking far more menacing in real life than he did in Metalocalypse. “Hey! We need to talk!”  
The rest of the band and Charles Ofdensen were also gathered close.  
This _had_ to be a joke, and some sort of truly exceptional cosplay! Dethklok wasn’t real, he should know, he’d created them!

“Nathan, let me speak to him first.” Nathan just grunted, and let Charles take his place. “Mr. Small, the boys have some concerns about how you’ve been writing them this season. And their concern is my concern, do you understand?”  
“You’re not real! I _made_ you! You can’t do anything to me!”  
Pickles suddenly stepped up and punched him in the stomach, that _felt_ real. “Ya don’t git it, do ya? Without us, you’d still jest be sahm dude livin’ in his mahm’s basement! _We_ made _you_!”

A slap to his cheek shifted his focus. “Schtop making me gay, I’m not gay!”  
“Pfft” Skwisgaar had otherwise been quiet so far.  
Murderface ignored that. “I’d apprechiate not having another gay crisisch, if that’sch not too much to aschk!”  
There was no response, Brendon just stared.  
“Fine, ignore me! Nobody ever lischtensch to me anyway! I’m juscht the bassch player!” He stepped back, still frowning.

Pickles got back in his face, glaring like a man with a gallon of bleach in his hand. “I know yer plannin’ ta send me ta rehab, an’ thet’s bullshit! I’m jest fine! An’ besides, _yer_ tha one who gave me tha prahblems in tha first place! Change it, or you’ll be sahrry!”  
Charles spoke up. “I’d suggest you consider his words, we have grounds to sue you for defamation of character. And believe me, I wouldn’t hesitate to do it.”

“This isn’t real!”  
Then Toki tasered him. It hurt a lot more than he’d expected, but fortunately he didn’t hold the trigger very long. _This_ time, anyway.  
“I don’t likes the things you’s been makings me do! You makes me into a total pussy! I’s totally brutal!”  
Nathan shrugged. “Uh, Toki? You’re not really that brutal.”  
“I’s way more brutal than he’s been makings me!”  
“Yeah okay, I’ll give you that.”

Nathan turned back to Brendon. “I’m only going to warn you once, STOP FUCKING WITH MY BAND! You keep trying to tear us apart, what the hell is your problem?!”  
This was really happening! Somehow, this was _really_ happening! Brendon looked at each of them in turn, they all were glaring down at him. _How_ had they become real? What had he done?! They were waiting for an answer.

He didn’t want to talk about it, but knew he was lucky to only be tied to a chair. There were much worse things in Mordhaus (where they must surely be), he knew, he’d designed them all.  
There was no choice. In a way, he _did_ owe them an explanation. He took a deep breath. “You see, I started this, created you all, with my friend Tommy. We planned it all out, your whole lives! We wrote together!” He sniffled, but nobody offered him a Kleenex. “And then he left me! I’ve tried to do it all alone, but it’s so _hard_!”

“Scho I’m not gay, _you’re_ gay! You’re a gay cartoonischt!”  
Brendon began to cry.  
“STOPS BEING A PUSSY!” Toki tasered him again.  
When that stopped, he found Skwisgaar towering over him, guitar raised like a club. “You makes me watch mine mother has sex!”  
Charles stopped him. “Skwisgaar! Don’t kill him, we’re still unsure what of the repercussions of that would be!”

Fortunately, Skwisgaar backed down with a sneer.  
Charles pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look Mr. Small, just get things back on track and everything will be fine. Otherwise you may find yourself in a private meeting with me, and I assure you that you _don’t_ want that. Do we understand each other?”  
Brendon didn’t answer, just cried a little more.  
Charles sighed. “You’ll be returned to your home now.”

“Wait- Is this all?”  
“Yes Nathan, for now. I believe we’ve made our point.” He pulled out his Dethphone. “Yes, we’re done here.”  
Two big men in black hoods entered the room. Klokateers were real too?! Brendon wondered why he was even surprised. His head was covered again, and a needle in his arm was the last thing he was aware of.  
Would he remember? Would things change?  
Time would tell.


	3. Brendons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon and his slashtastic alter ego, also named Brendon, argue about Metalocalypse.  
> If any of you still mistake me for sane, this should fix it.  
> Warning: Confusing because they’re both named Brendon.

Brendon Small was sitting in his comfy chair thinking up new story lines when suddenly he sensed a presence behind him.  
It was a biiiig comfy chair, so simply looking was way too much trouble. “Who are you and why are you in my house?”  
“I’m Brendon, your slashtastic alter ego!” He walked around and sat on the couch facing him.  
Brendon stared in surprise. Unless he had a twin brother nobody had ever told him about... This guy looked exactly like him! They were even dressed the same! But he was almost positive he’d never had a brother...

The other Brendon sat back and got comfortable. “So I’ve been thinking, this next season needs to be slashier. You’ve got to admit that the last one was a bit weak.”  
Brendon hadn’t mentally gotten far enough to discuss plots yet. “You’re not real! You can’t be real! Besides, Metalocalypse is a show about a metal band, they’re _not gay_!”  
“Look, it’s six guys living together, it can’t get much more gay then that. That’s like saying that Jack wasn’t banging both Janet and Chrissy, you know?”  
“He wasn’t! They were just friends!”  
“Do you _really_ believe that?”  
“No! Oh god what have I done?!”

Brendon smiled. “Calm down and let’s talk about possible ways we can explore their more private relationships.”  
“I still don’t think you’re real! If you’re really my... what did you call it? Slashtastic? If you were, why don’t you have a cool villain name?  
Brendon shrugged. “Because you have no imagination?”  
“I have _plenty_ of imagination! I created all those characters almost by myself!”  
“Dude, they’re all aspects of you and you know it. It’s a show about your secret love affair with yourself.

“Prove it! Tell me how they’re all me!”  
“Well they’re not so much _you_ as what you wish you were. You wish you had Nathan’s presence and brutality, Skwisgaar’s talent-“  
“I _am_ Skwisgaar’s talent! I play all his parts!”  
“Pfft,” He said in Skwisgaar’s voice, then continued, now counting on his fingers. “Toki’s body, Pickles’s tolerance to substances, Ofdensen’s BAMFness...”  
“What about Murderface? That’s where your whole theory falls apart!”  
“No, you wish you had his big heart. You’re just as scared as he is to admit it.”

“I need a fucking beer, you want a beer?” Could alter egos drink?  
“Sure!”  
Brendon collected the beers, then sunk back into his comfy chair. “If what you say is true, this whole show is essentially just me masturbating on the fans. That depresses me.”  
“No, man, they love it!” Brendon drank some of his beer, proving he could. “They want more. Do you have _any idea_ how insane they would go if you were to release even a teensy short little porn segment? It would be _outrageous_! Hell, they’d probably even settle for any two characters kissing.” 

Brendon stared into his beer as if the answers might float to the surface. “I showed them dicks last year. Well, two dicks and Pickles’s... Okay I really don’t have a good explanation for that one. We were all drunk and somebody said it would be funny... I can’t remember the details.”  
“Well show more dicks! Hell, show them comparing erections! Show Toki giving that blowjob he offered, the fans would go _wild_!”  
“So you’re telling me that the fans like Skwisgaar and Toki best? As gays?”  
“Buddy, I’m telling you that no matter what combination you throw out there, there are fans for it. Half your viewers think Nathan is banging the manager, for example.”

Brendon pondered this. “Wow. So what you’re telling me is, if I gay it up some more the fans will like it even better?”  
“Yeah, baby, yeah!”  
“Uh, you know I don’t do Knubbler’s voice, right?”  
“That’s why it sounded like shit, yeah of course I know! I’m you! Well, sort of.” Brendon chugged the rest of his beer and set the bottle on the floor. “So tell me, Brendon, are we going to gay it up or not?”  
“Well the problem is that I’ve already got the next season in production, it’s a little late to make changes.”

Brendon sulked at this news, he’d come too late. “Not even a kiss?”  
“It would be difficult to work one in, I’m sorry. Uh, not to sound like a bad cliche, but where have you been all my life?”  
“I live in your closet, where else? People like you always keep their slashtastic side in the closet.”  
“What do you mean ‘people like me?’ You _are_ me!”  
“But I like the cock, Brendon, and that’s something you’ll never admit to. I like it a lot.”  
“Fuck me, I need another beer.”  
“Ask me nicely!”  
“Argh! No, I mean-“ He gave up and went and got more beers.

New beers opened, other Brendon tried a different angle. (Heh, that sounds kinky.) “Well if it’s too late to gay up the new season, how about you make it up in the following season?”  
Brendon fiddled with his beer nervously. “Well, you see, I sort of changed the plan?”  
“Five seasons, Brendon, that was the plan! That’s not something you can just go and change because you feel like it!”  
“ _I’m_ the writer! You’re the... I don’t know what the fuck you are, but I’m in charge! And _I_ decided to do one more season and then a movie!”  
“A movie?! You can’t do a movie! You’ll give a bunch of background and shit and ruin it for all the fanfic writers!”

Brendon finished his beer and threw the bottle at his annoying alter ego, who dodged it easily. “You know, I think it’s time for you to go back to your fucking closet!”  
“You hate your fans just like Dethklok, don’t you?!”  
“CLOSET! _NOW_!” Brendon roared in Nathan’s voice.  
“Fine, _fuck you very much_!” Brendon stomped to the closet, went in, and slammed the door.  
Was that all? Brendon went to the closet and cautiously opened the door. There was nobody there, nobody at all.  
But then, who drank the empty beers by the couch?


	4. Brendon & Brendon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon’s slashtastic alter ego (also named Brendon) returns. They discuss season 4. The other Brendon is kind of annoying today.

Brendon was relaxing at home while he could, the Dethklok tour started in only a week. Between interviews and recording the Dethalbum III he hadn’t had a whole lot of time to himself lately.  
At least the just-completed season of Metalocalypse seemed to be a hit, which it needed to be after the negative hype he'd gotten on season 3. According to his secretary who was in charge of paying attention to this crap, some people were even taking it far too seriously. (Well, mostly just the season finale, but still.)  
No fan suicides so far though, as far as he was aware.

Brendon sat back in his comfy chair, sipping a beer and basking in the knowledge that his creations were so loved by the masses.  
There was a sound of a door opening and closing behind him, then footsteps to the kitchen and the plink of a dropped beer cap. He didn’t bother to get up, he knew who it was: The other Brendon, the one who called himself his slashtastic alter ego, had just come out of the closet again. He knew it had been too much to hope that he’d never see that guy again.  
Sure enough, he came in and sat on the couch facing him.

They regarded each other, sipping their beers. “So. You’re back.”  
“I never left, I’ve told you before that I’m you.”  
“And you live in the closet. I suppose you’re here to complain that this season wasn’t slashy enough for you? That it needed more dicks?”  
“Au contraire, I think you did quite well! You possibly went a bit heavy on the Murdercock, but I’m not complaining! I know he’s your favorite, after all.”

Brendon regretted ever saying that, since the excessive use of Murdercock now made him look gay. Well, gay-ish. “I showed Nathan and Pickles too!”  
“Yes you did, yes you did. Tell me though, did Pickles rate an actual penis this season or are we in for another attack of the beard crotch?”  
“If you’re really me like you claim, how can you possibly not know this?”  
“Of course I know! I just want to hear you say it. Is it Pickle penis time?” Brendon set his beer on his crotch and pretended to jack it off.  
“Please stop saying penis. And stop doing that too.”

Brendon stopped, but possibly only because he wanted to take another drink. “But still no Toki dick?” He saw Brendon’s glare. “Hey, I didn’t say penis!”  
“You just did. And as for Toki’s dick, after hearing its voice do you really want to see it?”  
“Let me think about that for a second... YES. After all this secrecy, I imagine the kid’s probably hung like Jonah Falcon.”  
“Who is... Never mind, I probably don’t want to know.”  
“You know you’ll just google it later.”  
Brendon chose to ignore that, although it was probably true.

“If you’re really me like you keep saying you are, how can you not know about it anyway?”  
“Because there’s no official art of it yet! We’d know it if it popped up and introduced itself but we couldn’t pick it out of a line up!”  
Brendon pushed that disturbing mental image aside. “If you won’t go away, can we at least talk about something other than dicks?”  
“How about cocks?”  
“That’s basically the same-“  
“I meant roosters!”  
“Fuck you.”

“Hey, wanna hear a joke?”  
“No.”  
“What do Metalocalypse and The Human Centipede 2 have in common?”  
“I said I didn’t want to hear it.”  
“They’re both 100% medically inaccurate!”  
“I hate you.”  
“You hate yourself, Brendon. After all, that’s what comedy is all about.”

“Look, if you’re just going to be annoying you can go back in your closet! I’ve got a really brutal six week tour starting next week, and my co-headliner’s frontman is still stuck in fucking Czech prison and time is running out fast, and I don’t need any shit from you!”  
“Well _somebody_ is sounding like a lady on her period...”  
Brendon flung his almost empty beer bottle at his annoying alter ego’s head. Instead of ducking, the guy simply vanished.  
Brendon got another beer and sat back in his comfy chair. Ernie padded in to lay beside him, funny how he never came in when the other guy was there. The other him, whatever.

He was glad the guy left before getting into a discussion on season 5, he didn’t want to think about that just yet. He already knew the concerts were going to be full of “Save Toki” posters, he remembered the response that the manager had gotten and he wasn’t even supposed to be popular. Would there be “Save Abigail” ones too? That would be interesting to find out.  
Sliding lower in his chair, he dropped one arm over the side to scratch Ernie’s ears.  
He resumed his relaxing.


End file.
